Inescapable (Talented Saga #7)

by Sophie Davis

  The last vestiges of sleep evaporated instantly. Talia’s head popped up, the back of her skull cracked the underside of my chin. I winced and inhaled a nose full of her tangled curls.

  “It’s on every news outlet,” Kenly added. “Hurry up or you’ll miss it. Emma and Kip are already awake, and they made coffee.”

  For a long minute, Kenly and James simply stood there, waiting for Talia and I to get out of bed. I glanced pointedly at Talia’s bare torso, her shoulders and arms the only parts of her body not covered by the blanket. Kenly flushed scarlet and rambled apologies, before concocting an excuse to make a hasty exit. For his part, James didn’t register embarrassment at all. He did, however, push Kenly from the alcove while she was still speaking.

  No sooner had they turned their backs than Talia threw the covers off of us and leapt to her feet.

  “Clothes. I need clothes.”

  I watched my girlfriend dart around the alcove, yanking open dressers drawers and forcing bins from beneath the bed with her mind as well as her hands, an amused smile on my face. She used to be a lot more modest, but the lack of privacy in a prison cell had clearly changed that. The thought wiped my expression clean.

  Finally, Talia located a pair of neon purple leggings and a white snowflake sweater with the words “One of a Kind” stitched on the back. It reached just above her knees once she’d slipped it over her head, and suited her perfectly. At a slightly less manic pace, I pulled on my dress pants and matching button-down from the night before.

  “Come on.” Talia grabbed my hand and led me from the alcove before I managed to get more than the bottom two buttons fastened. “This is huge.”

  Someone had pulled more chairs around the desk in front of the wall of monitors. Emma, Kip, and Kenly were seated. James stood behind his girlfriend, his hands planted firmly on her shoulders in a death grip. There was an air of excitement surrounding the group, in addition to a nervous energy they all shared. I couldn’t blame them. The last time the treaty had come up for renewal, we were all too young to appreciate the magnitude of it. Also, the results hadn’t been so uncertain then. In the past, most people took it for granted that the Coexistence Treaty would be renewed. That was not the case this go-round.

  Emma turned upon hearing our approach and offered us a tight smile. Kenly pointed needlessly to the two empty chairs with steaming mugs of coffee already in place.

  “Anyone want to bet on the outcome?” Kip joked half-heartedly.

  “What are you two going to do if it’s voted down?” Emma asked Kenly and James, as though the thought had just occurred to her.

  “Nothing different than we have been,” Kenly answered with a shrug. “It doesn’t change much for me. The Poachers are my focus. I’ll stay here and keep doing what I’m doing in the hopes of finally taking them down for good. If anything, my work will become more important. Right now, a lot of the ringleaders are in hiding. But if the vote goes against us, they’ll probably feel it’s safe to resume business. Those Talented who aren’t given spots on the islands will be at greater risk for capture and sale. Governments will care even less than they do now about that sort of thing. Who knows? They might even encourage it.”

  Kenly’s tone was offhand and she spoke as if it was really that simple, but I felt her fear and doubt. The Poachers terrified her. She hated them with every cell in her thin body, rightfully so. After what TOXIC had done to me, I understood that degree of hatred. The Poachers had kidnapped her and dressed her like a doll for the sole purpose of selling her to the highest bidder. In a way, what they’d done to her was worse than what Mac had done to me. And I’d gotten my revenge.

  “You could go to the islands,” James said quietly.

  “No.” Kenly’s emphatic reply echoed throughout the bunker. “I will not go into containment. I will not let them poke and prod me all the in name of science. I’d rather die fighting the Poachers.” The steel in her voice made me smile. She sounded so much like Talia in that moment.

  “Oh! Turn it up. It’s starting,” Emma squealed excitedly.

  Of the six of us, the vote had the least impact on her. From the little Talia had told me of her escape, I knew Emma and Kip lived on a remote island in a secluded community where Talents were prevalent. No matter the result, Emma’s life wouldn’t change.

  Kenly hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said that every news outlet was covering the announcement. All fifty of the screens had a ticker running at the bottom with updates and a reporter on scene in Trafalgar Square for a live broadcast. On the center monitor was an overly made-up woman in a canary yellow skirt suit and alarmingly red lipstick. I recognized her from my own interviews: Dana Duval. She was an unflinchingly biased reporter with conservative political leanings when it came to the Talented. She was also one of the world’s premiere journalists. It was her report that Kenly chose to turn up.

  “Ladies and gentleman, Talented and Created, I am here in London’s Trafalgar Square, where we are mere seconds away from the Joint Nations big announcement,” Duval began, her eyes twinkling merrily.

  The camera panned the enormous crowd. Flags from various nations around the world flapped in the light breeze. It was still dark outside, and many of those gathered held neon glow sticks or had lights attached to their shirts, blue for those in favor of coexistence and red for the opposition. It was hard to tell which side was better represented. The same sorts of signs I’d seen at my rallies jutted into the air on long poles to be seen.

  Talia slipped her hand into mine and squeezed.

  Did the outcome truly matter? I wondered. If it went against us, we’d be together. Running for our lives, but together. Right, but if it goes in our favor, Talia can return to the islands and we can live in peace, I reminded myself. Even if she had to serve out her jail sentence, they’d release her soon. Or, we could go to the States, where Crane would grant her asylum. That was ideal, I decided. It was the only chance we had of leaving this life of danger behind us. We could start over.

  “Ah, Chief Delegate of the Joint Nations, Rumi Hardjoc, has just stepped to the podium,” Duval declared on screen.

  My heart skipped a beat. After all of the stupid campaigning and bullshit, the time for waiting was over. Talia leaned into me, placing her head on my shoulder. Her mind was open, so I felt the odd mix of emotions swirling inside of her. She hated that one piece of paper made all the difference in the future for our kind. Why was coexistence even a question? She shared my belief that, in many ways, exile might be best, since so many people didn’t want us in their cities and towns. If it weren’t for the fact that so many refugees would have no place to call home, Talia would definitely be rooting for the treaty to be voted down.

  I wanted to help ease Talia’s mind, but my own thoughts were all over the map. My emotions were so out of control, and I was unable to quell the rising tide of trepidation inside of me.

  A short man with pale blond hair and a trim black mustache suddenly took center stage on every screen. He cleared his throat and tapped the microphone twice, causing static to crackle over the hushed crowd.

  “Good morning,” Rumi began with a blank expression. “We are here at this very early hour to announce the results of the Coexistence Treaty vote. After I read off each delegate’s decision, I will remind the listeners what this means for the future on a global level.”

  As Rumi droned on about the history of the treaty, dating back to its inception, and talked about the Great Contamination and how the Talented came to be, the impatience in the room increased exponentially.

  “Suspense effectively built,” James muttered under his breath.

  “Now, for the reading of the votes,” Rumi finally said, just when my impatience had reached a breaking point. “Delegate Abington from New Zealand votes in favor of renewal.”

  Kenly summoned a notepad and pen from somewhere in the back of the bunker. Both zoomed neatly through the air and landed on the desk in front of her. She quickly drew a line down the m
iddle of the top page and made a single tally mark in the left column.

  “Delegate Crane from the United States votes in favor of renewal,” Rumi continued.

  With two votes for coexistence secured, the crowd in Trafalgar Square erupted in a chaotic mess of boos and cheers. I, however, didn’t feel quite so jubilant, and neither did Talia. New Zealand and the U.S. were known to be Talented-friendly countries; it was no surprise that both delegates had voted for coexistence.

  The next three votes went against the Talented. Each pronouncement was met with the same reaction from the crowd viewing it live. Several of the other monitors at the front of the room had switched from the image of Rumi in London to gatherings around the world, where individuals were watching this historic event together.

  At a bar in Croatia, a brawl broke out after the fifth vote was announced. Two women, one with talons and a large bird beak and the other very plainly human, clawed and scratched at each other’s faces. Others soon joined in on one side or the other, pulling hair and feathers, biting with razor sharp incisors. One man even brought out a baseball bat from beneath his chair and started clubbing anyone in his immediate vicinity. The image dissolved to an outdoor gathering in Germany that was only a fraction more civilized.

  “This is getting nasty,” Talia sent.

  “Did you expect people to be adults?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t really know what I expected. I’ve had a lot of other things on my mind.”

  I blanched at the reminder, and then kissed her forehead.

  Things only got worse as Rumi continued down his list. Many of the news outlets were no longer showing the international gatherings, but rather fixed on the stage in Trafalgar Square. Of those still willing and able to show the more graphic images, many displayed warnings across the top of the screen so that people would know the bloodshed they were about to witness.

  In a neighborhood that could have been anywhere suburban, mobs were dragging Talented from their homes at gunpoint. Local policeman in riot gear watched but did nothing to stop the atrocities. The mob forced Talented men, women, and children into the street, where a waiting group of norms hurled everything from rotted fruit to large rocks at the sobbing individuals.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Talia sent.

  “Is this…real?” Emma asked, in the voice of a frightened child.

  Even James was green, and he’d spent most of his life witnessing scenes not dissimilar to this one.

  Only Kenly seemed nonplussed by the graphic violence, but her eyes were glued to Rumi on the center monitor. Talia’s mentee had no interest in anything besides the actual outcome of the vote. I was a little surprised to feel the lack of surprise on Kenly’s part, though. Then I remembered that visions were one of her created gifts. Had she already seen all of this? I supposedly had the ability to future-gaze. Thankfully, I’d yet to have a single vision. For the most part, I preferred the future be a mystery—made life more interesting.

  “Last one,” Kenly muttered. “Come on, come on, come on.”

  I’d been consumed by the reports from around the world and hadn’t realized how close we were to learning the final result. Glancing over at Kenly’s paper, my stomach gave a queasy jolt. Tied. The vote was currently tied. This last delegate was the deciding factor, if only because the votes had been read in alphabetical order according to the delegates’ last names, with Rumi saving his vote for last.

  There was no air left in the bunker. We were all on the edges of our seats, both literally and metaphorically, waiting for Rumi to announce his decision. One look at the anticipatory expressions of the delegates lined up behind him, and I knew that they were in just as much suspense.

  “They don’t know,” Talia sent, obviously having seen the same thing I did.

  On stage, the Joint Nations militia edge closer to the delegates, ready to whisk them away to safety once the need arose.

  “I, Chief Delegate to the Joint Nations Rumi Hardjoc from Lithuania, vote in favor of abolishing the Coexistence Treaty.”

  Stunned silence filled the bunker and viewing parties across the globe. It lasted a full thirty seconds before mutiny broke out.

  In Trafalgar Square, people in the crowd turned on one another. Fights started between everyone from an elderly old woman to two children that couldn’t have been more than five or six. There, at least, weapons had been banned, so the damage was minimal compared to other locations. The worst, in my opinion, was the scene in a seaside town, where Talented leapt hundreds of feet from a cliff to the roiling ocean below.

  “Turn it off,” Talia demanded. “Now.”

  Mutely, Kenly obeyed, it would have been hard not to with the authority Talia infused into her command. Kenly did, however, leave the center monitor on, and the sound turned to max volume. Dana Duval was reporting from Trafalgar Square, the camera zoomed in so close on her face that only flying limbs and tails could be seen in the background.

  “UNITED has just provided me with the list of lottery winners who have spots waiting for them on the Isle of Exile,” Duval said, eyes gleaming brightly as though the massacre behind her was the most interesting thing she’d ever witnessed. “The names will begin scrolling on the screen momentarily. Additionally, UNITED has sent comms to all of the winners, along with instructions on how to proceed.”

  Most other reporters probably wouldn’t have had the stones to announce UNITED’s plan for mass extermination of their criminal elite. Duval wasn’t most reporters. She took delight in reporting the controversial and outrageous. That was precisely what she did.

  My heart broke for the inmates, all of whom hadn’t committed crimes that warranted death sentences. The thought of how close Talia had come to being one of those inmates made my blood boil. But I did understand and appreciate the difficult position Victoria and the others had been forced into. And I wasn’t unsympathetic to the plight of so many displaced refugees.

  At the other end of the desk, Emma was curled into a ball, sobbing. Kip was holding her, looking as though he’d just had the shock of his life, which he probably had. Kenly and James had their heads together, talking in low voices.

  Talia turned to face me, violet eyes brimming with unshed tears.

  “I can’t believe it. I mean, I knew this was a possibility, but not like a real possibility, you know?” She took a deep, calming breath that gave her new resolve and determination. “I think we should call Victoria. I’m going to turn myself in.” Gently, she touched her fingertips to my lips to quiet my protests. “I know, I know. But UNITED needs all the help they can get right now. This is already a nightmare. I am more use to her on the frontlines than on Vault, or dead. She’ll understand that. We did sort of bond over the last month.”

  The trapdoor snapped open, as if pulled from its hinges by a tremendous force. Talia and I whipped our heads upwards simultaneously. There was a flash of amber as something came tumbling through the opening. Or, as it turned out, someone.

  Talia jumped to her feet. “Victoria!”

  I grabbed for Talia’s arm to catch her before she got any closer, because my girlfriend hadn’t noticed what I had: Victoria’s neck had a weird bulge and her head was turned too far on her shoulders. Talia yanked out of my grip and hurried to Victoria’s side, skidding the last few feet on her knees.

  Kenly screamed when she saw the councilwoman. James tried to block her view. Emma’s wails intensified.

  Shadows appeared over Victoria’s limp form.

  “Talia, move!” I hollered, using telekinesis to force her out of harm’s way, since I knew she wouldn’t go willingly. My girlfriend hadn’t been lying when she’d said that she and Victoria Walburton bonded. Talia felt genuine, deep-seeded remorse over Victoria’s death. So much so that her grief nearly crippled her.

  Four figures jumped through the opening, landing in a semicircle around Victoria’s body. My stomach hit the floor. Emerald eyes pierced me from across the room. Deep down, I’d known this was t
he case. Hell, I’d even shared my concerns with Victoria. Still, seeing really was believing.

  “Hello, Anya,” I said calmly.

  “Shame we’re meeting this way. I thought you’d come see me at least once over the last month. After all, you were so concerned about me at the auction, concerned enough to risk her wellbeing.” Anya shot daggers towards Talia, who was climbing to her feet near the wall where I’d thrown her just before the newcomers entered the bunker.

  Talia grinned, but her eyes remained cold and her thoughts were far from friendly.

  James and Kenly moved to stand on either side of me, the combined power radiating off of them comforting. Both were prepared to fight to the death if necessary.

  “How long have you been working for Nightshade?” I asked Anya conversationally.

  She gestured to her fellow bad guys. The shock of seeing Talia’s doppelgänger among them was hard to keep from my expression. Violet eyes that were identical to Talia’s stared at me lovingly, and I started to feel nauseous. The coffee sloshing around in my stomach intensified the feeling.

  Even worse though was the horrible realization the sight of the doppelgänger brought with it. I’d planned to meet the fake Talia the night before. But after everything that had happened in the VIP longue, the meeting had slipped my mind. Not Penny’s though. She must have told Victoria, who’d gone in my stead. The councilwoman was dead, and it was my fault.

  “We aren’t Nightshade, Erik.” The face I’d once found so pretty suddenly seemed so ugly, particularly when Anya made a pouty expression. “We’re better. Better than everyone. We’re Privileged.”

  This time, I didn’t bothering hiding my shock. Privileged was what the little girl had said she was, just before she blew herself up. So, Privileged was apparently an euphuism for crazy and suicidal. Good to know.

  Kip rose and stood on James’s other side, drawing Anya’s attention to him.

  “Vester Ozolos, we’ve been looking for you. Fancy our luck, finding you and the little manipulative brat together,” Anya said delightedly.